Red Rose
by IzzyBells
Summary: Not sure how to explain this, other than it's very similar to my Harry Potter story, Fix You. It's like...little bits of my OC's life in accordance with the movie. I guess.


Hey guys. Alright, I'm a HUGE Phantom of the Opera fan. HUGE. I can quote the 2004 movie, well, most of it. And this has been sitting complete for a while, so I figured, what the hey, might as well upload it. Enjoy!

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Life as the Prima Donna of the Opera Populaire isn't exactly easy. I feel that I have an obligation to my managers, as my understudy, Carlotta, is a rude, pompous toad. And she doesn't sing all that well either. So, I make sure that I never miss a performance. I love my job too much anyway. Except, there is the matter of...the Phantom.

Christine Daae, an orphan taken in by Madame Giry, has been getting special attention from him. Madame Giry and I are his only friends. Young Christine...she is like my own daughter. The little girl, not even ten years old, should not be getting this attention from a man as old as myself.

But, when you're dealing with the Phantom...he always gets his way. And I know he does. There isn't a thing he does or plans without telling me. Sometimes I'm the only thing keeping him grounded, and sometimes, although I'm sure it isn't true, I think I might have more power over him than Madame Giry.

Jacquelynne Belle Claude, Prima Donna of the Opera Populaire, sat at her triple-mirrored vanity, applying her stage makeup. She finished with that, and started to pin up her hair. She was wearing a long, soft robe, and her costume was hanging from it's hook, ready to be worn. Jacquelynne, unlike many women before her, refused to have help while preparing for a performance.

The full-length mirror creaked behind her. Catching it in her mirrors, Jacquelynne didn't even bat an eye to the masked man entering her dressing room.

"You really should take care of that creak," Jacquelynne commented, continuing to pin up her hair. As she finished, the brunette fitted a cloth cap over her hair, holding it in for her wig.

"Antoinette said you were concerned about Christine," said the Phantom.

"Why wouldn't I be, you're old enough to be her father, for God's sake."

"Jacque, I swear to you, for the thousandth time, that I am simply comforting her."

"Erik," Jacquelynne said calmly, turning to face him, "comforting her is not watching her sleep."

"I don't watch her sleep," he retorted.

Jacquelynne gave him a stern look, and the Phantom sighed, looking down.

"I thought so," she said curtly, turning back to her mirror, where she tucked a few stray hairs into the cloth.

The wig, a very long, blonde one, would be used in the opera's adaption of the Grimm story, Rapunzel.

"But...Jacque..."

"Erik, please. I'm worried about you. You could end up kidnapping her and keeping her down there with you, doing who knows what."

"Jacque, I would never stoop that low, and you know it."

"Are you quite certain? All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. She's much too young. There are plenty of other women here. Turn your attention to them instead, or at least wait until Christine is an adult. Even then, I wouldn't approve, but it would be a bit better."

"Other women?" the Phantom repeats, a razor edge to his tone. "Do you think I hadn't noticed there were other women here, with their caterwauling and shady ways? Always drinking and in the gutter. Cinching their torsos into deadly widths, spending all too much time with their faces and hair."

"Well at least you noticed," Jacquelynne replied in a condescending tone. "Leave the poor girl alone! Or I might just send her away to live back with my family."

At this, the Phantom turned on his heel, and disappeared through the mirror with a flourish of his black cape. Jacquelynne sighed, and stood to close the mirror he left open. As it creaked shut, she made a mental note to get it oiled.

Jacquelynne turned to her costume. She took the corset down, and slipped it on, then laced the back tightly. Her corsets were made to be tight fitting, but not enough to be painful or a hindrance to her breathing. The skirt went on next. A pale pink skirt, not too full, but not thin either. Just a right balance. With a last check to her makeup and wig, Jacquelynne exited her dressing room, carrying her slippers.

Jacquelynne backed into her dressing room, accepting numerous bouquets and smiling widely. As she shut her door behind her, she leaned on it with a look of relief. The bundles of roses and tulips and other flowers were deposited wherever there was room, and Jacquelynne sat down to take off her wig and unpin her hair.

On her vanity was a single red rose, with a black ribbon tied around the stem. Jacquelynne stood again, and walked briskly to the full-sized mirror, and threw it open, revealing the Phantom.

"You naughty boy," Jacquelynne said, teasing. "You know better than to spy on a woman."

"I know, I was going to sneak up on you though."

"And scare me? If I scream, the manager will come running with all the police force. He can't have his star singer getting hurt, now can he? Come in," Jacquelynne said.

She went back to releasing her long hair, which tumbled down, bit by bit, to fall just at her hips. Her glossy, dark brown locks were curled slightly, from being in pins all night. Her hair was naturally very curly, but when it was brushed out, it was wavy and straight, for the most part.

Jacquelynne wiped the stage makeup from her face and hands, sighing.

"What?" the Phantom asked, hearing her sigh.

"I hate putting anything on my face."

"I think you look nice with the stuff."

"Well, we treat each other as brother and sister. You're kind of obligated to say that, whether you think so or not. Therefore your opinion on the matter doesn't count."

"Yes it does!"

"Do you want to find you home decorated in all of these flowers, or will you shut your mouth?"

The Phantom remained silent. With a "hmph" from Jacquelynne, she turned back to her face, wiping off anything she missed with a wet cloth. Jacquelynne rose to change, ducking behind a folding screen to do so. She reemerged wearing a loose black gown that went down to drag slightly on the floor, cinched with a black leather under-bust corset (also made to be not too constricting when laced tightly).

Jacquelynne put her hands on her hips, seeing the Phantom standing in the same place she left him.

"Well?"

"Well what?" he asked.

"Are you going to say something or leave?"

"Why do I let you boss me around so?" the Phantom asked rhetorically, as he turned down the corridor behind the mirror.

Many years later, Jacquelynne Belle Claude returned to the Opera Populaire, only to find that Carlotta was Prima Donna and going strong, and that Christine had grown up to be a beautiful young chorus girl. After that night's show, Jacquelynne went backstage to talk with Christine.

"My, Christine, look at how you've grown!" she exclaimed.

"Jacque!" Christine yelled, enveloping the older woman in a hug. "Oh, I missed you."

"And I missed you too. How are everyone's ears fairing, what with Carlotta being Prima Donna?"

"Not well, I'm afraid."

"That's what I thought."

A woman, dressed in a dark plum-colored skirt and coat, her dark brown hair pulled into a bun, stood at the door to a simple house in the country. A sharp rap on the door, and it was opened a few minutes later.

"Erik. What did you do to the opera house?" the woman hissed at the man who answered the door, glaring at him.

"Oh, lighten up. It's only a broken chandelier."

"You could have killed everyone!"

"And?"

"I am very disappointed with you," the woman said, and turned on her heel to begin walking away.

A young woman with dark brown hair sat in a chair, younger cousins gathered around her, and a young boy, her son, in her lap.

"Did I ever tell you the story of the Phantom of the Opera?" she asked them.

And she began to relay the story of Christine, the Phantom, and the old opera house. An older woman, dark haired and fair skinned, came over and gave a stern look to the storyteller, her daughter.

"Those who speak of what they know find too late that prudent silence is wise..." she said mysteriously.

There was a knock at the door, and the older woman ran to answer it. At the door stood Christine, Raul, and their two children.

"Come in!" the older woman said happily.

"It's been so long, Jacque," Christine commented, hugging the former Prima Donna as she entered.

Later that evening, Jacquelynne, her daughter, and the other women who helped brought out the Christmas feast. All the family and friends who had come were having a merry time, when there was another knock at the door. Jacquelynne rose to answer it.

On the stoop was a single red rose, a black ribbon tied around the stem. An envelope was underneath, a red wax scull used to seal the envelope. Jacquelynne stepped outside for a moment, and opened the note. After she finished, she returned inside with a smile, slipping the note into her pocket.

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Well. That was kind of confusing. Explanation: there is none. Sorry, but I like it. If you can make sense of it, good for you. I hope you enjoyed it anyway!


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